


Patrick vs. The Kilt

by DisgruntledPelican



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Boys In Love, Determined!Patrick, M/M, kilt related inspiration, minimal knowledge of actual kilts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:42:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21994681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DisgruntledPelican/pseuds/DisgruntledPelican
Summary: “You know…” David continued, now peering lovingly at the top of his fiance’s head, “The benefit to a kilt is that you don’t actually have to take it off of me to get to what you want, Patrick.”Without stopping his exploration, Patrick replied hastily, “When you wear shit like this, I take it as a personal challenge. We aren’t getting to that venue until this kilt is off and your dick is in my mouth.”
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 43
Kudos: 157





	Patrick vs. The Kilt

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a discussion of Patrick and his reaction towards the kilt. I sincerely hope that others join me in exploring how Patrick handles David in a kilt because I, personally, had a LOT of *feelings* about it. 
> 
> Thank you missgeevious for the beta-work!

Patrick’s mind was short-circuiting. He’d seen David countless times wearing his black skirt over his tight pants. He’d finally, _finally_ figured out how to take the skirt off without verbal or physical direction from David. And now… now David was standing in front of him, the morning they were venturing out to visit a venue for their wedding (wedding!), and his sexy-as-fuck-fiance was wearing a kilt. A fucking KILT! How the hell was he supposed to function all day with David in a kilt?

Something needed to be done about this.

Patrick put both hands on David’s hips and gently pushed until David’s back hit the apartment door. Patrick’s mouth covered David’s in a wet, frenzied kiss. All lips, and tongue, and teeth. Patrick moved his hand up to cup David’s cheek and neck, David’s hands splayed across Patrick’s back. Patrick pulled back, just a fraction, but enough to give David space to protest if he really wanted to. When Patrick saw David’s eyes were still closed, and his smile quirked to one side of his face, he knew David was fully aware of what that fucking kilt was doing to him.

“I got ready early, figured we’d have some delays in our schedule… uhh.” David realized when he finally opened his eyes that he wasn’t actually talking to anyone. He shifted his gaze downward to discover that Patrick had sunk to his knees and was making a valiant effort to unbuckle David’s kilt.

“You know…” David continued, now peering lovingly at the top of his fiance’s head, “The benefit to a kilt is that you don’t actually have to take it off of me to get to what you want, Patrick.”

Without stopping his exploration, Patrick replied hastily, “When you wear shit like this, I take it as a personal challenge. We aren’t getting to that venue until this kilt is off and your dick is in my mouth.”

David patted the top of Patrick’s head and smirked, knowing that the kilt had taken him 20 minutes to figure out, even after reading the instructions that came with it. “Good luck, honey!”

Patrick went to work. 

David’s shirt (maybe two shirts, Patrick wasn’t entirely sure) were finally up high enough that Patrick could see what needed to be done. There were three buckles, a knotted tie of some sort, and he could see some hidden contraption peeking through the top near David’s navel. Rubik had nothing on this kilt.

_Okay Brewer, you can do this. It’s just… three belt buckles, like the ones you wear everyday except fancier... a sailor’s knot probably made by actual pirates, and then.. who knows. Fuck, David’s hands feel good. How many buckles were there again?_

All Patrick could think about was David’s long fingers carding through his hair, playing behind his ears, reaching towards his neck, and...

“Fuck David, you can’t do that. I’m trying to concentrate here.”

“I can’t... what? Touch you?”

“Nope, no touching. Hands on the door.”

Patrick was using his very serious business voice and David thought about getting snippy, maybe throwing out a _why don’t you make me_ , but by the looks of Patrick’s flexed forearms and clenched jaw, the man was working hard at this task and David didn’t want to disturb this process any further. So… because Patrick had said _hands on the door,_ David put his hands on the door.

Several minutes passed and David wasn’t sure if he should be turned on by or concerned about the noises Patrick was making below him. After a few minutes of fumbling hands making indiscreet contact with his half hard dick, several grunts from Patrick, followed by very loud, “Shit motherfuckers,” came a startling, “YESSSS!” 

Patrick looked up at David through his lashes, “I uhh.. I’m done with the buckles.” Patrick used the back of his hand to wipe the sweat from his forehead and cheeks, taking a second to breathe and feel his own accomplishment.

David took that same second to appreciate Patrick’s open features, the glee in those amber eyes and the sweat remaining on his pink, flushed cheeks. He was the most beautiful thing David had ever seen. While still keeping his hands on the door, David encouraged Patrick to continue his quest by thrusting his hips forward, his now very interested cock making contact with Patrick’s cheek.

“Keep going, honey… You’re almost there.”

Patrick started fumbling with the knot, he was fighting every one of his impulses which were screaming at him to relieve the pressure building in his own tight jeans, or to at least get a hand on his fiance’s clothed erection. But Patrick had a task to complete. He had to ignore the whimpers and minute hip thrusts coming from David… and he had to ignore his own pulse picking up its pace in his cock. 

_You can do this Brewer… it’s a simple knot. Okay, it’s a slightly complex knot. Just… slow down. Slow down. Slow. The fuck. Down. Look at the knot. Track the fabric. There you go. Delicate fingers… no sudden movements… you’re almost there…_

“FUCK yes!”

And with that maniacal outburst, David’s head hit the door with a _thunk_.

“Shit, you okay hun?”

“Yep, yeah. I’m fine. Keep going… one more clasp. You uh... You might want to hurry. I’m... I’m not far.”

“How are you close, I haven’t even touched you?” Patrick spoke absentmindedly as he began fiddling with his unknown contraption. He was instantly distracted by the contact being made with David’s bare skin and the perfectly curated trail of thick, dark hair leading to his cock.

“Do not shame me Patrick! You’re all sweaty and grunty and bossy… its hot!”

Patrick’s ear’s pinked up and the blush on his cheeks deepened. This last clasp was proving to be a fucking burden. Between his own aching cock, David’s bare skin and happy trail, and the tease of David’s hard and leaking dick, Patrick wasn’t sure if either of them were going to last.

“I can either keep working and get this clasp open sometime in the next 10 years… or you can help me and I can get that dick in my mouth in thirty seconds.”

David looked down and quirked that lopsided grin, “Can I take my hands off the door now, Patrick?”

“I’m surprised you followed that direction this long, David.”

David reached one hand down to the clasp and effortlessly undid the final contraption. The offending garment finally fell to the ground, and Patrick took charge again. 

Patrick nosed at David’s crotch, letting himself feel David’s soft briefs and hard cock against his flushed skin. He kept David’s hips steady on the door with one hand, and gave David’s dick a few pumps with the other, spreading the pre-cum. He knew what David liked, and planned to give him all of it. He licked a long stripe from base to tip, one, two… three times. He sucked the head of David’s cock into his mouth, just the head, and gave a long, hard pull. He heard and felt David’s breath hitch, and the sensation went straight to his own throbbing cock. 

Patrick spent some time bobbing on David’s dick, appreciating his length and the velvety smooth sensation of his beautiful fiance in his mouth. Patrick couldn’t hold out any longer, he had to relieve his own building pressure. Reluctantly, he let go of David with his hand, allowing his mouth, tongue, and lips do the work, and quickly managed to undo his own pants (in record time, comparatively speaking).

When he finally gave his dick the attention it had been begging for, he moaned around David’s in his mouth. He worked to keep up the pace he’d set for David while simultaneously pumping his own hard cock. 

David’s fingers tangled in Patrick’s short hair, and he took the cue to begin long, strong pulls on David’s dick before letting David take control and thrust into his mouth. After several minutes, he felt David’s hands twist in his hair, and he knew he was about to be rewarded. As soon as he tasted David on his tongue (and on his lips and back of his throat), he gave in and let his own orgasm coarse through him. He reached up with one hand, grabbed David’s ass for purchase and held on tight, probably leaving bruises they could appreciate later.

Patrick pulled off of David and took several long breathes. He felt David petting his cheek, playing with his hair, and eventually pulling him up and licking into his mouth, seeking the taste of himself on Patrick’s tongue. 

After many minutes of languid kissing they finally broke apart, knowing they needed to get started on this very important day.

“I didn’t get my chance at you,” David pouted, “How am I supposed to wait until tonight?”

“I think I have a way to deter you. Get dressed, I’m going to change.”

David busied himself with reassembling the kilt and getting himself perfectly (back) together. This was an important day for him, _fuck, for them_ , he wanted to look flawless for his, _shit, their_ venue visit. He checked himself in the bathroom mirror, made a few necessary adjustments to his apparel and his hair, and went to make sure they had everything they’d need if this venue was _the one_ for him. _Ohmygod, them._

As he left the bathroom, he spotted Patrick… wearing a… 

“What the actual fuck, Patrick! Are you wearing a _green_ shirt?”

“Yes, David. I am.”

David’s hands began to flail uncontrollably and his face was doing about a thousand different acrobatic moves, “INCORRECT, Patrick! That is _so_ incorrect!”

“This way you won’t want to jump my bones all day… let’s go David!”


End file.
